


Smosh Writing Week 2019

by secretkeeper18



Category: Smosh
Genre: Angel/Demon AU, M/M, SmoshWritingWeek2019, SmoshWritingWeek2019 - Day 1, SmoshWritingWeek2019 - Day 3, Soulmate AU, This is definitely blasphemy on some level so don’t read it if you don’t like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19888171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretkeeper18/pseuds/secretkeeper18
Summary: All my writings for Smosh Writing Week 2019!





	1. Day 1 - Soulmate AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has seven soulmates. When that person meets one of their soulmates, a color is restored to their gray-scale vision. Red is for the romantic soulmate, orange is for the emotional soulmate, yellow is for the loyal soulmate, green is for the growth soulmate, blue is for the stability soulmate, purple is for the lifelong soulmate, and pink is for unconditional love. Some soulmates may not be mutual, and some may not share the same color caused by their meeting.  
> A look into Ian's life as color is one by one brought into it.

**Pink**

The first color Ian could see was pink.

He couldn't remember a time when he wasn’t able to. Most kids’ first color was pink, and it was usually due to their mom or dad. Most baby products were advertised pink for that very reason: pink blankets, pink diapers, pink plushies, pink mobiles, etc.

Pink was the color of unconditional love, a mother's love, and like it, the color lasts one’s entire life.

* * *

**Purple**

It’s about eleven years of grays and pinks before another color even reads its head. It wasn’t uncommon for kids to be able to see one or two colors before the age of 18, but most people met a majority of their soulmates post-childhood. Ian honestly didn’t expect to walk into science class on his first day at a new school and walk out being able to see a new color.

“My name’s Anthony,” the boy next to him offered.

“Ian,” he replied, with a shy smile.

The teacher handed out their assignments and paired the two boys together for the lab.

“Dang, I hate teachers that make us do work on the first day,” Anthony grumbled.

“Me too,” Ian agreed, frowning as he surveyed the room. Then, he blinked, eyes focused in on a girl from across the room. He let out a strangled noise and blindly reached for Anthony’s tugging his shoulder and pointing at the girl.

“What is it?” Anthony asked, distractedly, eyes still trained on the worksheet.

“Do you see her sweater?” Ian demanded. Anthony turned finally to follow Ian’s gaze. Then, his eyes widened.

“It’s...” Anthony gaped, unable to recognize and put the name to color, but Ian knew.

“Purple,” he finished, with a grin. “Partners in crime?” He held a hand out.

Anthony turned back and grinned as well, taking the hand in a tight handshake. “Partners in crime,” he agreed.

* * *

**Yellow**

“Ian,” Anthony called out, waving him over from a distance. He was standing with their director, Ryan Todd, and a girl Ian didn’t recognize but felt like he definitely should know. He approached slowly, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to connect his memories as to why he knew this girl. As he got closer, a lightbulb went off.

Right, it was the girl who had answered their casting ad for a video. They’d been running Smosh pretty much just the two of them on camera, with the occasional guest appearance of Ian’s mom and Ryan Todd as Stevie, so both Ian and Anthony had had their reservations about even trying to add anyone. Eventually, Anthony had convinced him it was a good idea, and Ian finally agreed.

“Ian, this is Mari,” Anthony said, with a friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you, I’m really looking forward to working with you guys,” Mari said, politely, holding a hand out.

“Nice to meet you, too” Ian said, then his eyes suddenly latched onto the house beside theirs. His eyes widened, heart skipping a beat.

“What is it, Ian?” Anthony asked, frowning at him in concern.

Ian blinked. “Yellow,” he said, throat suddenly dry. He stared at the bright color in wonder, unable to comprehend how he’s gone so long without it.

“Yellow?” Mari echoed, “Are you looking at the house?”

“Yeah,” Ian finally looked back at her, breaking pine of sight with the house. “Do you?”

Mari shook her head, but before Ian could feel disappointed, she continued. “But the grass...” she glanced at the ground. “It’s... it’s green.”

A smile grew on Ian’s face. “I’m Ian Hecox,” he said. “Ready to start the day?”

The shoot went well, the three of them chatting between shots. They’d ended up having a long conversation about cars before Ryan finally called cut.

“Would you be able to come back for another shoot tomorrow?” Anthony asked. “Today went really well, and we’d love to have you help out some more.”

Mari hummed thoughtfully. “It’s a four hour drive, so I’ll have to think about it,” she admitted.

“Not a problem,” Ian reassured her. “Just let us know.”

Mari offered them a warm smile before heading to her car.

Anthony turned to Ian with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not worried she won’t come back tomorrow?”

Ian shook his head. “Yellow, remember?”

Anthony’s lips twitched upwards. “Got a lot of faith in soulmates, man.”

“It wasn’t wrong about you, right?” Ian nudged him. “Yellow means loyal. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

Mari did come back the next day, and continued to do so for the next eight years.

* * *

**Orange and Blue**

It would be fitting that the two opposite colors fill Ian’s world at once, suddenly flooding the room in warmth as soon as the two enter the room.

“Oh my god!” the girl gasped. “I’m so sorry, I’m late!” Ian glanced down at the clipboard. _Courtney_ , he read. _Her name is Courtney._

With her comes a warmth he hadn’t felt in a few years, not since he had met Mari. He glanced over at Anthony, who was preoccupied fiddling with the camera to set up to tape the audition.

“You’re fine,” the other guy ( _Shayne_ , Ian thinks) said. “You’re totally fine.”

Courtney’s face was flustered as she turned to Ian and Anthony and opened her mouth to probably apologize, when her eyes widened suddenly. Her lips mouthed the word “green” but other than that nothing came out. Shayne’s eyes flickered to his gray shirt (at least, it was gray to Ian) before he schooled his features and offered a friendly smile. Ian in turn tried not to stare at Shayne’s blue jean jacket and decided to dwell on it later.

He coughed. “Courtney Miller and Shayne Topp, right? Thanks for coming to audition for us...”

A month later, Courtney and Shayne joined the Smosh cast.

“It wasn’t...” Courtney asked, wringing her hands nervously. “It wasn’t because of the colors, right?”

Shayne didn’t say anything, but he shifted uncomfortably, like he wanted to ask the same but didn’t know how.

“No, of course not,” Ian said, honestly. “Anthony has as much say as I do, and Ryan agreed with our decision, plus Olivia, Keith, and Noah all loved you guys.”

Both of their shoulders slumped in relief.

“Thanks, then,” Shayne said, with a smile. “I’m really excited to start working with everyone.”

Ian smiled back, this time letting his eyes take in the blue of Shayne's denim jacket and the orange of Courtney’s shirt. “I’m glad to hear it. Come on, I’ll show you guys around.”

* * *

**Green**

The strobe lights were flickering back and forth across the room, hitting Ian in the eyes as he tried to awkwardly maneuver across the sea of bodies.

“Thanks for inviting me, man,” Ryan said, as they finally broke free from the crowd.

“No problem, man, you do so much work for us,” Ian shrugged. “Besides, Anthony had something to do today and this is like, a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“Playboy party is now crossed off on my bucket list,” Ryan laughed.

They mingled for half an hour or so before Ian started getting bored.

“This, uh…” Ian muttered to the director. “Kind of sucks.”

“Not what I’d expected,” Ryan admitted.

“You think we should-“

“Ian Hecox?”

Ian turned to see a short woman approaching him with a smile.

“I’m Pam, Pam Horton? I was the one who DM’d Anthony, I don’t know if he mentioned…” she suddenly trailed off, her eyes locked on Ian’s tie, which was a deep blue color. Meanwhile, the strobe lights danced on, but what caught Ian’s attention was the sudden addition of another color.

“Green,” Ian murmured, eyes wide. Pam seemed to shake herself out of the trance, and smiled widely at Ian, a little more warm than her previous polite smile.

“Blue,” she replied, holding her hand out. Ian took it, matching her smile. Ryan also reached out and shook her hand, once the moment of shock had passed.

“You guys having fun?” Pam asked.

“It’s… a little crowded,” Ian admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Pam nodded in agreement, then paused.Her face suddenly lit up. “I’ve got an idea to get out of the crowd, if you’re down.”

Both Ian and Ryan nodded hastily; it was better than being surrounded by a bunch of random men on a dance floor with no where to sit.

Pam marched up to the VIP area, and was stopped by a tall bouncer.

“You can’t come back here,” he said, eyes flickering to Ian and Ryan, who probably stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the rest of the crowd.

Pam lifted her ID badge. “They’re with me,” she said firmly, her room leaving no room for argument. The bouncer glanced at them one last time before reluctantly letting them pass.

“We can sit here at least, it’s a lot nicer than the rest of the club,” Pam explained, turning to look at them. “But you’ll have to stick with me otherwise they’ll probably kick you out of the area. So you’re pretty much stuck with me for the rest of the night.”

Ian offered another smile. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

* * *

**Red**

It was another hectic meeting at the Smosh office, where the producers and writers were talking avidly and making plans for the rest of the week while others pitched ideas and joked around.

Ian, meanwhile, was lost in thought. He had been feeling… well, old, to put it lightly, as of late. The full spectrum of colors available to him, while nice, was only a constant reminder. Or rather, more specifically, the absence of the last color was a constant reminder. He knew that a lot of people didn’t find their red soulmate at a young age, if they ever did at all, and a lot of people didn’t even end up with their red soulmate at all. Still, it felt like an obvious hole in his life, even if it wasn’t immediately obvious to an outsider.

“Ian, what do you think?” Matt asked.

Ian blinked. “Uhhh…” he said, intelligently.

“Ha!” Sarah laughed. “I told you he wasn’t listening!”

Matt rolled his eyes while Ian sputtered.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. You okay, man?” Matt asked.

Ian shrugged. “Just thinking about stuff, recently.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Like?”

“Just…” Ian trailed off, then really took a close look around the room.

Courtney would occasionally lean back in her chair, throwing paper planes at Shayne from across the table. He would swat at them exaggeratedly, yelling “HIYA!” as he did so, making the rest of the table laugh. Damien was chatting with Mari about a game they should play for a Smosh Games video. Noah and Keith were bickering beside them, something about some movie they had watched the previous night, with Olivia watching them in amusement.

Suddenly, the realization hit him.

Why ever would he feel like he was missing something, when he had everything right here? Surely, this family that he built was far more fulfilling than the color red ever would be. And whether he would be able to see it tomorrow, next year, or never, he would be content with the rest of the rainbow, and the family he had formed even without fate’s tying them to his color vision.

“It’s nothing,” Ian finished, a half smile on his face. “Just thinking 'bout family.”


	2. Chapter 2 - Angel/Demon AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damien is an angel, Shayne is a demon, and they somehow still manage to make it work (even if they do accidentally unleash the antichrist).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Good Omens AU, featuring Angel!Damien and Demon!Shayne. I took formatting and the general conflict (the antichrist) from the original book, so I hope Good Omens fans will appreciate it! See end notes for fun facts about this chapter!

**4004 BC**

An angel stood on the top of a wall, overlooking the desert. An owl, with wide, amber eyes and golden brown feathers landed beside him. The owl grew, and grew, until it was standing just shorter than the angel.

"Huh," the former owl said. "You must be new."

"'scuse me?" the angel asked, confused.

"I said," the newcomer repeated, "You must be new. I would've recognized you, otherwise, angel."

The angel frowned. "You call me angel like you are not one."

"I'm not," he responded, simply. "Not anymore."

"Oh," the angel said, a little awkwardly. "My condolences, then, demon."

The demon laughed a bit, the idea of an angel, who had been recently stationed at the gates of Eden, would give him his condolences.

"Don't be," he said, instead of voicing his amusement. "I'm Tap, and you are?"

The angel squinted at him, as if trying to suss out if the demon was trying to trick him.

"No tricks," the demon promised. "Just making conversation. There hasn't been much to do lately since those humans were kicked out."

The angel's lips pursed, before he finally answered. "Haasael."

"Huh," Tap murmured, not even attempting to repeat the angel's name. "How... angelic."

"Well," Haasael answered, with a shrug, "I'm an angel."

Tap's eyes flickered to Haasael's spread open, white wings. "That much is obvious," he agreed.

"I'm surprised the Almighty even bothered to appoint new guards," Tap said, conversationally.

Haasael shifted his weight uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "Well..." he coughed. "Who's to say what the Almighty is planning?" he asked, vaguely.

Tap paused, mulling over his words and evaluating the angel's body language. His eyes lit up, suddenly, with realization. "Oh!" he laughed. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

Haasael's eyes shot up to meet his. He looked very much caught- guilt and sheepish at the same time. "Well," he sputtered. "Maybe I was not appointed in a... uh, official capacity," he hedged.

Tap grinned widely, delighted by this turn of events. "So, what drew you here, then?"

Haasael turned back to look over the desert with a half-hearted shrug. "Humans, I guess. They're fascinating, aren't they?'

Tap smirked. "I'm inclined to agree. In fact, I've recently been assigned to Earth, so perhaps I'll be seeing you around, angel."

The angel looked at him with calculating brown eyes, before he relaxed eventually. "I'll be seeing you as well, demon."

* * *

**2017**

Contrary to popular belief, heaven is not a place on Earth. Also contrary to popular belief, Heaven was not so different, in certain aspects, yet wildly different in others.

Damien honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had visited for longer than it took to report to his superiors. Heaven was just too open, cold, corporate, and its angels were quite fit for it. Most of them, anyways. They cared little for Damien’s comings and goings on Earth, and even less so about the people who occupied it 

Damien was... different. He went by a human name, one not God-given, but in fact chosen by himself. He helped elderly ladies cross the street, watered the plants for his neighbors when they were out of town, and made funny faces at crying babies to ease their mothers’ ire.

He had spent so long on Earth that he had come to greatly appreciate and even admire humanity’s capacity to love one another and even their methods of showing it. This, of course, left him in a strange predicament. No other angel, no other divine being, could truly understand his fascination with humanity or their “simple” joys. And, given the fact that he has been around for 6000 years now, means that no human could understand what it was like to watch humanity grow and evolve. Which left Damien to be, he supposes, one of a kind. 

That is, he would be one of a kind, if it weren’t for the existence of one other divine, or rather, occult being. 

Just about everyone on Earth could claim to have a best friend, who understood them and shared past experiences together. Few people, however, could say the friendship lasted 6000 years. In fact, Damien would wager that he himself was the only person who could make such a claim; that is, himself and Shayne.1 

Shayne was possibly the least demonic demon he had ever come across. Shayne himself was honestly hard-pressed to even remember the last time he had done something actually damaging to humans.2

Shayne was the type of demon who encouraged people to be bad, but mostly in mildly inconvenient ways. There’s no garbage nearby, just stick the gum underneath the table and no one will be any wiser. There’s a woman pulling into the parking lot of the store but it’s just about closing, so what’s the harm in flipping the OPEN sign even if your shift hasn’t technically ended just yet? Or, best of all, you definitely will know exactly what to order when you get to the front of the line, so don’t bother looking at the menu until you get to the cashier even when there’s a whole line of people behind you.3

His specialty, however, had always lay in inconveniencing human transportation. Shayne was at least partially (read: primarily) responsible for the development of the six-lane freeways and the increase in popularity of purchasing cars. This led to the rail lines and traffic lines being put out of business, which in turn created the famous LA traffic nightmare. Unfortunately for Shayne, he had neglected to remember that he lived in, and commuted in, Los Angeles. 

All in all, no real harm caused, but Shayne certainly couldn’t let his superiors find that out. 

It’s just that... over the years, Damien and Shayne had grown comfortable on Earth. They traveled, performed miracles (angelic and demonic, depending on who won the coin toss), and met plenty of humans they long outlived. After all these years, it would certainly be difficult to adjust to life back in their respective head offices when they had grown so fond of humanity and their inventions. Books, video games, TV shows, movies, food. None of them existed in Heaven or Hell. Besides, Damien was fairly certain he wouldn’t be allowed to bring his cats if he ever had to return, and he was absolutely certain no other angel would let him ramble on about Kingdom Hearts or Dark Souls, not like Shayne did.

All of this is one long explanation for just why Damien and Shayne could not let the Apocalypse happen. Damien had grown fond of farmers’ markets on Sunday mornings, Super Smash Bros matches with Shayne, every minuscule thing that made humanity so intriguing. Though Shayne loathed to admit it, Damien knew Shayne was quite possessive of his ever growing book collection, his shelves full of candles and other miscellaneous knick knacks, and his daily routine that consisted of early morning gym workouts before heading to the office.

And so, when Shayne received his instructions to begin Armageddon, he was not happy, to say the least. 

He received the instructions in the middle of work. It had started out as a good day; he had started a few construction projects on the way to work, which caused the usual LA traffic to be even worse, _and_ he had stolen the last can of La Croix from the fridge in the break room of the office. All in just a morning, too. He had headphones on, and was working on a rough draft of a script for a sketch he had proposed. 

**TAP, IT IS TIME**. 

Shayne nearly jumped out of his seat. The keys on his keyboard had begun clacking of their own accord, mid-sentence. 

“Are you okay, Shayne?” Courtney asked, from her desk just a few feet away. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You look kinda sick.”

Shayne grinned back. “I’m fine, just had an idea is all.”

Courtney shrugged and went back to whatever she was doing. Shayne turned back to his screen and felt his smile fade. 

_Sir?_ he typed, slowly. 

**IT IS TIME.**

Shayne’s heart sank. _For what, exactly, sir?_

**YOU KNOW AS WELL AS ANYONE. THE ANTICHRIST IS HERE. YOU ARE TO DELIVER IT. HERE ARE YOUR INSTRUCTIONS.**

Shayne winced as the information loaded his brain. He hated when they did that, dammit. He shut his computer, and stood up. 

“Heading out to lunch already?” Noah asked, as he entered the room. “I thought we were all gonna go grab In-N-Out.”

Shayne laughed nervously. “Uh- no, actually- I forgot my wallet at home so I won’t be joining you guys. I’ll probably grab something from home and my wallet too. Raincheck?”

Courtney and Noah both nodded, accepting the excuse. Shayne gave them a quick thumbs up before quickly escaping the room. He immediately hit the road and, upon entering the highway, felt his head connect with the steering wheel. His car emitted a loud _HONK!_ but it’s noise was drowned out by the hundreds of other cars also honking amongst one another in the busy LA traffic jam. Right, of course. He had forgotten.

He took a deep breath, then lifted up his head. “Siri,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Call Damien.”

* * *

Damien had also been having a good morning. He’d had a voice audition early in the morning that he felt went pretty well and had spent the rest of the day at the gym, which had coincidentally had a great deal of clientele leave feeling more energetic and less sore than usual.4

He was rinsing the dishes when Shayne called. He probably could have miracles the dishes clean instead of going to the effort of doing them by hand, but there was something nice about the mundane, human way it was done. Besides, his roommate was home, and he didn’t want to risk him catching him mid-miracle. As far as the other man was concerned, Damien was just your average actor trying to make it in Los Angeles, but he did often voice whenever he thought something was a little strange, or coincidental. These notes often coincided with a miracle Damien happened to perform. He supposes, in hindsight, if he wanted to blend in, he maybe shouldn't have chosen a lawyer to be his roommate. He probably could've done more to throw off suspicion, but he figured the best course of action would to be to just keep the miracles to a minimum around the apartment.

Damien shut the faucet off and dried his hands with a dishtowel quickly before picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“ _Hey, Damien, hope this isn’t a bad time- MOVE, ALREADY!_ ” There was a loud honk from the other end. 

Damien winced at the sudden volume, pulling away from the phone a bit. “Shayne? What’s wrong?”

Shayne groaned. “ _What isn’t wrong?_ ”

Damien's eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

“ _No time to explain right now. I need to do a quick pick up for downstairs, but we need to meet as soon as possible. Could you meet me at the Smosh office?_ ” Shayne asked. 

“Yeah,” Damien said, immediately. “Will you be-“

“ _I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. I’ll meet you there._ ”

There was a click, then the line went dead.

Damien could count on one hand the amount of times he'd seen Shayne truly distressed. Whatever this was, it made Shayne uneasy. He sighed, then snapped his fingers. The dishes suddenly appeared on the dish rack, clean and ready to be used for the next meal. 

Somehow, Damien got the feeling that he wouldn't be using them for a while.

* * *

To say Shayne was a little underwhelmed, would be putting it lightly. 

The soul of the antichrist sat ominously in the mason jar, hardly bigger than a soda can. There was a little glow, twinkling like little fireflies. It would be pretty if it weren’t for the fact that it was literal evil incarnate. When he got back to the office, he found it still empty as everyone had left for lunch. He held it up to inspect it, palms sweaty and hands shaking a little. 

“This little thing,” he said, disgruntled and incredulous. “is supposed to bring about the end of everything?”

 _No_ , he decided. It wasn’t going to end like this. 

Shayne stood up and pulled out his phone, texting Ian that he wasn’t feeling well and was gonna go home sick. He received a text back not even a minute later.

_Okay, feel better!_

Then, a selfie of Ian with Noah, Courtney, Keith, and Olivia, all pulling some sort of silly face at the camera. Noah was grinning widely at the camera with his thumbs up encouragingly. Keith had an arm draped across Noah’s shoulders and his other hand holding his fork halfway toward his open mouth. Courtney was blowing a kiss to the camera, eyes half lidded. Olivia was smiling sweetly, her eyes closed and holding up her burger to the camera. Ian was mid laugh, as his hand that was not holding the phone was discreetly giving Olivia bunny ears. Shayne felt his chest tighten with emotion.

Footsteps from the hall outside the office began to grow louder. Shayne panicked, shoving the jar in his backpack and clutching the backpack to his chest, staring at the doorway like a deer caught in the headlights.

Damien peeked his head in, then entered once he noticed the room was empty save for Shayne. Shayne let out a breath of relief, relaxing a fraction.

“That was fast,” Shayne noted.

“You sounded frantic on the phone,” Damien said, glancing around the office curiously. Shayne had, of course, told the angel about his current job and all about his human coworkers, but he had never visited him at work. He didn’t think Damien had ever even met any of them. 

“Traffic was a nightmare, though.”

“Might’ve had a hand in that,” Shayne admitted, not guilty but apologetic. 

Damien snorted a bit. “Of course it was you. Your specialty, as usual. You wouldn’t believe how many miracles i had to perform just to clear up some of the congestion.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, but we have a more important problem,” Shayne said, looking at his long time friend grimly.

Damien returned his attention back to the demon and cocked an eyebrow. “I can see that. What’s wrong?”

Shayne ran a hand through his hair. “Have you heard from...” he glanced up conspicuously. “Anything at all?”

Damien frowned. “Well, a few ominous memos, yeah. Nothing, really...” he trailed off, and his eyes zero’ed in on the backpack clutched to Shayne’s chest. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then,

“Tell me there’s not a baby in there.”

“What? No!” Shayne stared at his friend incredulously. “What the hell? Why would I-“

“Isn’t that what the whole plan is? The antichrist is a baby to be switched at birth on Earth?”5

“That’s dumb, why the hell would they risk that? That’s just asking for a whole load of issues,” Shayne demanded. 

“I don’t know! That’s just what I thought!” Damien said defensively. 

“No, no!” Shayne scoffed, pulling out the jar and dropping the empty backpack on the ground. “This is the soul of the antichrist, they put it in a jar and it’s my job to release it near some very evil people so they can bring about the end of the world.”

“Yes, that sounds much more efficient,” Damien muttered, before the words suddenly clicked. “You brought the antichrist into a busy office building?!” he freaked. 

Shayne rolled his eyes. “Relax,” he said. “I’ve got everything under control. Plus, everyone’s on a lunch break. We’re going to prevent this from happening, okay? But we can’t panic.”

“We are well past that,” Damien said, faintly. 

Shayne held out the jar. “Hold this?” he requested. Damien stared at him like he asked him to hold his dead dog. 

“It can’t hurt you,” Shayne said impatiently. “I need to look up something on my phone.”

Damien took the jar reluctantly, staring at its contents with a morbid fascination. Shayne typed on his phone frantically, then held it up to show the location of a hospital. 

“Here’s my plan, we go to the hospital I ass assigned to release the antichrist in, and we set it up so there’s a room with a man- a bad, bad man, who would be the perfect vessel for the antichrist-“

“I’m not liking this plan so far,” Damien said, frostily, almost slamming the jar on the nearest desk, which happened to be Courtney’s.

“-and on the other side of the curtain is a very, very old man on the brink of death,” Shayne continued, as though Damien had never even spoken. “I release the antichrist and it chooses its host. Only, you will bless the bad man, so the antichrist’s soul only has one option. The old man, rest his soul, will die with the antichrist in him, and there! Crisis averted! I could not be faulted if the antichrist chose a bad host, and you could not be faulted for blessing a troubled man.”

Damien was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Do you really think it’ll work?” he asked, quietly. 

“I hope so,” Shayne said, grimly.

“Well, I don’t think we have much other plan, so-” Damien was cut off by Shayne’s co-workers entering the office. The angel spun on his heels, scooping the mason jar back off Courtney’s desk and inconspicuously holding it behind his back.

“Oh, Shayne, you’re still here!” Olivia said, surprised. “Ian said you weren’t feeling well.”

“Er,” Shayne’s eyes flickered across the room. “I was just… finishing up the script before I went home. This is, uh, Damien. He was in the area and offered to drive me home, since I felt dizzy.”

“Nice to meet you all.” Damien awkwardly waved. 

“Oh, Shayne always talks about you,” Courtney’s face lit up in recognition. ”and you were on So Random with him, right?”

“Yeah,” Damien answered, surprise evident in his voice. He didn’t think Shayne would bring him up to his coworkers. 

“You’re such a workaholic, man,” Keith said, disapprovingly, but smiling sympathetically. 

“You’ll work yourself to death,” Noah joked, approaching his desk, which Shayne happened to be standing near. Shayne laughed nervously, picking up his backpack from the ground and heading over to Damien, who was looking increasingly panicked as conversation continued.

“Ha, you’re probably right about that,” Shayne said, moving his arms behind his back. He smoothly plucked the mason jar from Damien’s hands behind his own back and dropped it into the backpack. It was a little heavier than he remembered, but he couldn’t really focus on that. “Anyways, I should probably head home, get some rest.”

“Feel better,” Keith offered, approaching him to pat him on the back. “Don’t forget we’re shooting early Monday morning!”

Shayne managed a groan, which was only half faked because while he didn’t like early morning shoots, he would be grateful if the world didn’t end by then. “How could I? See you guys!”

“Bye!”

“Feel better!”

“Nice meeting you, Damien!”

The two quickly made their escape, sliding into Shayne’s car with a breath of relief. Shayne zipped up the bag again and tossed it into Damien’s lap.

“Right,” Shayne said. “Hospital is an hour away. Maybe more with traffic. Let’s head out.”

They fell into silence for the ride, their anxieties far too heightened at this point to even attempt small talk.

About half an hour into the drive, Damien spoke up. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asked, quietly.

Shayne gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. “It has to,” he insisted,

“But-”

“Damien,” Shayne looked at his friend, making eye contact. Damien fell quiet for a moment, giving Shayne the room to take another breath, then turn back to face the road. “Have a little bit of faith, will you? We’ve been going at this for 6000 years now. A couple evil fireflies won’t change that.”

Damien gave him a warm smile, acknowledging the reassurance. Then, he said, “Did you just refer to the antichrist as fireflies?”

“It looks like fireflies!” Shayne defended, his shoulders dropping in relief at the familiar bantering.

“No, they don’t,” Damien said, unzipping Shayne’s backpack in the meanwhile to prove his point. “But I guess it is a fairly solid plan-“ he halted abruptly. 

“Yeah, I’ve thought it over a lot and-“

“Shayne.” His voice was dead quiet. 

“Yeah?”

“... where is the antichrist?”

Shayne blinked slowly, then cocked his head slightly to look at his passenger when they stopped at incoming traffic. “It’s right in the bag, I told you.”

Damien held out the bag. “So, get it out.”

Damien really didn’t believe him that he was safe? 

_Fine._ Shayne huffed, and took the bag back. He opened the already unzipped bag and froze suddenly. The jar was not in the bag. He turned the bag upside down over his lap, but all that fell out were loose papers, a notebook, a water bottle, and some pens. A jar about the same size as the jar holding the antichrist also rolled out of the bag, only it was lined with purple tape was filled with colorful binder clips and paper clips that Shayne recognized as belonging to Courtney. _No antichrist._

Shayne took a deep breath. He stared up at Damien, who stared back at him. 

“You lost the antichrist,” Damien said, faintly.

Shayne swallowed and tried to stifle the look of horror that threatened to overtake his face. “ _We_ ,” he corrected, “ _misplaced_ the antichrist.”

“You lost the antichrist!” Damien’s voice was bordering on hysterical now. 

“Hey, no, not just me! You handed it to me!” Shayne snapped. His friend blanched, as if he had been struck.

Damien ran his hands through his hair, looking horrified. Shayne winced, realizing his mistake. 

“We both messed up,” Shayne said, as calm as possible. “I didn’t even notice...”

“Can we panic now?” Damien bemoaned. 

“No, no, it’s just- it’s probably left it at the office! You grabbed Courtney’s office supplies jar instead of the antichrist,” Shayne realized.

Damien didn’t protest, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling himself in, before burying his face in his hands. The parking lot not exactly empty, but a quick miracle from Shayne turned his car windows tinted suddenly. Outside, a lady tripped in her heels over a small pothole and stumbled, causing a man to spill coffee on her and led to a screaming match. Meanwhile a man heading out of the building stopped and found a wallet containing several hundreds of dollars on the ground, which he had promptly picked up and returned to the manager inside the store he had just exited. These sort of incidents were quite common whenever Damien and Shayne spent time together for long periods of time in public, especially when emotions were running high.

“I’m going to freak out,” Damien declared. 

“You can’t, not now,” Shayne demanded, eyes not leaving the road.

“I’m going to freak out,” he repeated. 

“Don’t,” Shayne warned, sharply. “Because then I’m going to freak out.”

Damien took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Okay,” he said, finally. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Shayne asked, warily. 

“Oh, yeah, why wouldn’t I be sure?” Damien’s voice was dripping with sarcasm usually unheard of coming from an angelic being. “We just- lost- the antichrist.” He laughed a little more, sounding completely insane. 

Shayne contemplated for a moment before ultimately deciding that giving his friend a heart attack from driving over the speed limit was better than giving him a slow ulcer from waiting any longer. He stepped on the gas and raced back to the Smosh offices. 

By the time they arrived, everyone had already come back from lunch and the squad was all sitting together in their office on the couches.

“Hey, Shayne. What’re you doing here?” Keith asked, confused.

Shayne smiled back nervously and decided to fib only slightly. “I- uh, forgot something, so we just turned back.”

He quickly approached his desk, then Courtney’s desk, and felt his heart sink. 

“What’re you looking for?” Noah asked, peering over his shoulder. 

“Uh...” Shayne stammered, and met Damien’s eyes. Something in his face must have betrayed his panic, because Damien’s face went white. 

“Oh, was it your jar of fireflies?” Courtney asked, suddenly. 

Shayne’s head snapped to look at her. “Yes,” he said, slowly. 

Courtney looked mildly guilty. “Oh, I’m really sorry, Shayne. I thought it was a prank by you, because my paperclip jar was missing, and I just opened the jar to release the fireflies.”

Shayne felt like screaming. A quick glance to Damien told him that his friend felt the same way. 

“It’s okay,” he managed, weakly. “Nothing... important.” He winced at the blatant lie. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Olivia asked, frowning with concern. “You look terrible.”

“I- uh- should probably head home, then,” Shayne said, backing into the hall. 

“Alright, drive safe! Traffic is terrible today!” Courtney chirped with a cheery wave. It was a nice contrast to the dread building between them. 

Shayne practically dragged Damien back out and into the car. As soon as the doors closed, then turned to each other. 

“We’re so fucked.”

Shayne’s apartment was closer, so they ended up there after screaming for about ten minutes straight in Shayne’s car. 

“Okay, okay,” Shayne finally said. “We can still work with this.”

Damien looked up from the cup of coffee in his hands. “You are terribly optimistic about this,” he said, face still pale. 

“Look, that soul is going to want to latch itself onto a corporal body quickly. It can’t survive long on its own, so it can’t go far. Which means...” he trailed off, suddenly realizing. 

Damien’s face was grim, as he quickly had come to the same conclusion. “Which means the antichrist is living in one of your coworkers.”

A beat of silence, then,

“Fuck,” Shayne swore. 

* * *

In Shayne’s opinion, this could’ve turned out better, sure, but it also could have turned out way worse. 

“I’m just saying,” Shayne said, eyes glued to the TV screen. “This could be way worse. We have a small pool of who exactly the antichrist could have chosen, and besides, no one at Smosh is a bad person. They’re all nice, normal people. If and when the time comes for the apocalypse, whoever it is, will do the right thing.”

“I don’t know how you can be sure of that,” Damien argued, while glaring at the screen. Shayne wasn’t sure if this was because of their conversation, or if because Shayne had knocked Damien’s character out of the map with a single blow, causing him to respawn with one less life. 

“You get to know people when you work with them for this long,” Shayne said. “Trust me, none of these humans have an evil bone in their body.”

“Right,” Damien muttered, doubtfully. “This is the antichrist, we’re talking about. It is literal evil incarnate.”

“Well, human incarnate will hopefully be able to cancel it out,” Shayne countered. “But if you’re not so sure, why don’t you... keep a closer eye on us?”

Damien paused, his eyes leaving their game of Smash Bros to look at Shayne to see if he was being serious. Shayne met his gaze firmly. 

“You’re… serious?” Damien asked, incredulously. 

“Of course.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Damien frowned. “The last time we worked together as mortals, we caused the show to cancel after just a season.”

Shayne huffed. “It was the third season, actually, and it had nothing to do with us.”

Damien looked unimpressed. “I’m serious, Tap.”

Shayne made a face at the use of his true name. “I’m serious too, Haasael,” he replied, or at least he tried to. The name got stuck in his throat, and his tongue burned when he tried to force out the second syllable. Still, his point was made; he was not joking around right now.6

Damien pursed his lips. “An angel and a demon, working in the same office?”

“Damien, you’re wearing my pajamas and sitting on my couch, kicking my ass at Smash,” Shayne deadpanned. “If our superiors even cared what we were doing on Earth, don’t you think they’d say something by now? Besides, you’ll love everyone.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Damien let out a defeated sigh. “Alright, enough with the temptations, demon,” he said, a small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll do it, if only so the antichrist isn’t influenced solely by you.”

Shayne grinned. “Perfect! Then all we have to do is figure out which one of them is holding the antichrist and convince them not to destroy the world! Huh, imagine that, an angel and a demon working together to stop the apocalypse.”

Damien smirked, rather un-angelically, and his eyes slid back to the screen. While Shayne was distracted, Damien landed the killing blow on his character, effectively finishing the match. Shayne’s head snapped back to the screen, and his mouth fell open in surprise. He looked back at Damien furiously, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing. Damien just sat there, watching him, a smug smile on his face. 

Shayne laughed a little breathlessly, and let the controller drop from his hands. He grinned at the angel.

“Why, you devil.”

* * *

1\. Damien, of Greek origin, meaning “to tame.” The angel had perhaps chosen the name for his human persona based off Saint Damien, the patron saint of physicians. However, it should be noted that he had chosen the name in the late 70s and had been an avid fan of The Omen, which had premiered in 1976. Perhaps it was a bit of an overcompensation to name himself after Damian Thorn.   
Shayne, of Irish origin, meaning “God is Gracious.” If you think the name he chose was a little on the nose, you wouldn’t be alone. Demons are quite a fan of irony.

2\. Shayne certainly took credit for several unspeakably horrific incidents, all caused by humanity themselves, but it means his higher ups left him to his own devices on Earth. And, personally, Damien did quite prefer this. He really wasn’t sure what he would do if Shayne were ever recalled to desk duty down in Hell.

3\. His most impressive feat had to be the invention of tour groups in famous touristy areas, which not only caused extreme overcrowding in already overcrowded spaces, but also charged money for tourists to inconvenience other tourists who did not fall for such an obvious money grab.

4\. Not that Damien intended this, or even notice. It was just a side effect of working out near an ethereal being.

5\. This was a ridiculous idea, in Shayne’s opinion, and Damien had definitely spent too long on Earth watching Hollywood movies, which, of course, had also been Shayne’s doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The name "Shayne" or "Shane" really does mean "God is Gracious," something I found hilarious because I had already decided he would be the demon and Damien would be the angel. I figured, yes, a Demon Shayne would choose a name that on the nose as his human name.  
> 2\. Damien's name does not have any etymological ties to the devil, but Damian Thorn was the antichrist from the 1976 movie "The Omen" which is where the association comes from. I also figured, yes, an Angel Damien would choose to overcompensate in the funniest way possible.  
> 3\. Shayne's demon name is "Tap." I had written a majority of this story before finally deciding on the name that sounds similar enough to his last name, but also happened to appear in a daemon Tarot set I had just bought. Tap apparently is a "fallen angel who once held a rank in the heavenly order of Powers" and is "very powerful... with many gifts and abilities, but his areas of particular expertise seems to be related to the areas of travel and expanding the summoner's horizons- both physically and mentally." Given that I had already written about him responsible for LA traffic, I thought this was absolutely perfect.  
> 4\. Damien's angel name is "Haasael," which was much easier to come up with than Shayne's demon name. The ending -el is common amongst angel names as it means "God."


End file.
